Special Relationship
by EverythingIsMagic
Summary: Short stories about a pair of nations, united in more ways than one. A collection of AmericaxEngland fics spanning many genres. Fourth fic up: Bubbles.
1. The Morning After

**Author's Note:** This is the fic collection in which I'll be storing my shorter AmericaxEngland fics.

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**Prompt: The Morning After**

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They had no earthly idea why they were even there. All America and England remembered was going to a bar, a haze of activity, and waking up with massive hangovers from hell. In a jailcell. Together. England was laying rather sloppily on America's lap and America was sitting up, his head resting against the cold concrete of the cell. Their heads were pounding so hard as to inhibit much coherent thought.

"What... the fuck," America finally spoke. He looked down at England who was squinting up at him with bleary green eyes. "Did we do something terrible? Heroes don't go to jail."

England scrunched his face. "Whether heroes go to jail or not is the least of our concerns, you idiot." He pushed himself off America's lap, steadying his body with his hands due to an inevitable onslaught of dizziness. "My shirt is ripped." England picked at his tattered white shirt. It barely stayed on his shoulders, torn along the collar it was. "And my sweatervest is missing entirely. How much did we drink"

"So is mine." America frowned, surveying his own garment. "I mean not the sweatervest part. I didn't wear one. Who the hell goes barhopping in a sweatervest?"

"Shut up," England snapped. He paused. "Did we get in a pub brawl?"

America went quiet as he considered it. "Don't see any injuries on you, and I don't feel sore anywhere..."

"I do," he murmured.

"Huh?"

"Feel sore somewhere." His eyes widened. "Oh bloody hell. We _didn't._"

America blinked in confusion. "Um, didn't... what?"

England was about to reply when the door of their cell clicked open and an officer entered. "Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones, your bail has been paid."

"Who paid it?" England inquired.

The officer shrugged and a wry smile crossed his face. "A Gordon Brown did. Imagine that, bloke has the same name as our Prime Minister. S'ppose it's not terribly uncommon though..."

England looked positively mortified. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped. "My boss found out?"

"Haha," America laughed weakly. "It's a good thing we're in England and not America right now..."

"Oh quiet you," England retorted. "If my boss found out, I'll bet you ten quid that your boss already knows as well."

He gaped. "N-n-o way. Dammit England this is all your faul---"

"_Aflred_," England stressed, pointedly reminding him to use their human names in front of the officer. Generally America had no problem remembering, but if his mind was even half as muddled as England's was, it was no wonder he slipped. "I highly doubt it was only my fault."

"We don't even remember what happened, _Arthur_!" America shouted.

The officer cleared his throat. "Want me to fill you in?"

The pair nodded tentatively.

He glanced at the clipboard he held. "You two were arrested at three a.m. this morning near Essex Road for indecent exposure."

"What?" America queried. England's cheeks grew crimson, the officer's statement confirming what that one sore spot was telling him already.

"You had sex in the middle of a public sidewalk," the officer stated dryly.

"Christ's sake," England cursed. "How pissed were we?"

America was speechless. His cheeks had grown red as a stoplight and when he opened his mouth, only spluttering noises came out. They'd gotten completely plastered, ripped each other's clothes off, and had sex in the middle of London. England's sweatervest was likely lying discarded in some alleyway, and now that he thought about it, America recalled that he _had_ been wearing a belt when the two went out the night before. It was missing as well.

Public sex, with another nation. He didn't think he'd have the nerve to face his boss for months. And if any other countries found out...

"You two will find a ride waiting for you outside. I'll walk you out," the officer interrupted America's panicked consideration. He walked out of the cell, waiting for them to follow. "Oh and for some reason I'm not privy to, you won't be prosecuted."

They didn't need to be prosecuted. The potential embarrassment was enough, America thought. He stood up and pulled England to his feet by his hands.

"Next time _I_ pick what we do on our date," America quipped.

England flushed. "I hate to say it, but that's a very good idea."


	2. Ten Words or Less Meme

**AN: **This was a livejournal meme. Ten prompts were provided, and you had to fill each one in ten words or less.

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**1- Angst:**  
Years after their separation, they still can't stand the rain.

**2- Alternate Universe**  
America obliterated the forcefield.

"It's about time, spaceman," England grumbled.

**3- Crack!fic**  
"We _were_ really high..."

"Bloody hell, don't mention the sixties!"

**4- Crossover [with **_**Torchwood**_**]**  
"You two wanna go weevil hunting with me and Ianto?"

**5- First Time**  
One loose thread remained after WWII. Them. They tied it.

**6- Fluff**  
England kisses him tenderly, McDonald's fries they'd been sharing forgotten.

**7- Hurt/Comfort**  
England held America when he realized his war was pointless, not heroic.

**8- Humour**  
"Is that camera _floating_?"

"A fucking _unicorn's_ filming our sex."

**9- Smut**  
Hands, hearts, bodies; truly unite. It's different, _better_ than before.

**10- UST**  
"Ungrateful, idiotic--- " England reddened, shoving the smirking American away.

_Rejects! A couple I absolutely could not get down to a short enough length. Here they are anyway._

**UST-**  
They'd danced around each other for so long, but neither were very good at dancing. Eventually they just stumbled into each other's arms.

**Hurt Comfort-**  
They hate thinking about the past, about their time apart and all the opportunities they missed. The future was theirs, together. That's all that mattered now.


	3. Inexperienced First Kiss

**Author's Note:** Someone asked me to do Canada and America, but it turned into USxUK. I admit I find the idea of an adolescent America crushing on England just too adorable for words.

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**Inexperienced First Kiss: AmericaxEngland+Canada**

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"Boys are supposed to kiss girls."

"Shut up Canada, and besides, mouths are the same no matter who it's on." America's voice cracked, the bloom of adolescence creeping into it.

Canada gulped. "You could ask someone else."

"There's no one else I'd trust with this," America explained. The pair sat in the silence of a parlor, a cushy sofa beneath them. At this point in time, America was taller than Canada. Long gangly legs marked his recent growth spurt and he could best be described as awkward. He was looking down at Canada with an anxious frown. "I just want to y'know... know how to do it when the time comes."

"What's it matter? You act as if there's someone you want to kiss. Besides, it's not like I have experience."

America looked down at his lap as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "Never said there wasn't..."

"You could ask England for help," Canada offered.

At this, America's face flushed crimson and his blue eyes grew large as saucers. He squeaked. It was, one of the silliest things Canada had ever seen or heard.

"England? Oh _England_." The other colony stifled a gentle laugh. "I'll help you." He reached up and grabbed America's shoulders, preparing to attempt a kiss. "But maybe you should wait just a _few_ years before trying it on him?"

America nodded, and the pair fumbled into a kiss.


	4. Bubbles

**Author's Note: **For the first day of **usxuk**'s Special Relationship Sweethearts week. The theme was 'Sealed with a Kiss.'

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**Bubbles**

_By Everything is Magic_

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Bubbles, America had decided long ago, were one of mankind's greatest inventions. Well, more specifically, soapy sudsy bubbles, because of course mankind hadn't invented normal bubbles.

He especially loved the foamy ones, the type that coated the surface of the water and rose up in little peaks whenever he took a bubble bath. The type that kind of just sat on top of your head when they landed there, that you could put your mouth near the top of the bubble mountains and blow at, watching as they floated up and landed across the tub.

England called him childish for it, but that was just England. He liked to berate him for his 'right silliness' and scowl, but often when America turned away he'd see England's expression transform into a fond smile out of his peripheral vision.

Right now was one of those times. America's bathtub was really amazing. He'd had a jacuzzi style tub installed the autumn before, because he thought, he deserved to afford himself some luxuries from time to time (heroes needed to be able to relax), and a huge, awesome bathtub with jets and high tech temperature control was definitely that.

Another bonus, not listed in the store when he'd ordered it, but definitely one of the reasons he'd decided upon it, was how easily two people could fit inside.

It hadn't taken that much to coax England to bathe with him in his new tub the first time. They'd showered together many times; sharing kisses and much more and rubbing slick, wet hands across each other's forms. They'd bathed together as well, albeit in smaller tubs. By now America and England, on America's insistence, shared a bath almost every time England visited his Washington D.C. home.

Especially in the freezing winter, which it now was. America had filled up the bathtub to the absolute brim with bubbles, and England muttered a "bloody hell, you're going to flood the room," when he saw it. America just chuckled and stepped into the tub, pulling England in after and planting a quick kiss on his wind-chapped lips.

And now they were both soaking wet, and America was blowing bubbles toward England, which caused him to sputter and grumble and America to laugh. And then England would do it right back, and before long, they were pelting handfuls of the foam at each other, and one even landed rather comedically right over England's eyebrows. America kissed it off, coming away with a foam mustache in the process.

England, who had been _attempting_ to act as if he weren't enjoying their antics, let out a loud laugh at it, and America blushed and was about to retort. Instead he smiled; mischief clear in his expression.

He wiped the mustache off with the back of his forearm and leaned forward, swiftly wrapping his arms around England and tackling him into the water. England flailed, but then relented as America's lips crashed against his, and they both came up for air and continued kissing, their tongues darting into each other's mouths and their breath intermingling. Bubbles popped and foam dispersed into plain old soapy water as they pressed against each other, and once they pulled apart (who knew how long it was? Minutes? America had no idea, although his fingers were quite a bit more wrinkled), England gave him one of those sweet half smiles. Arm swung around America's shoulder, he leaned forward and kissed a dollop of foam off his nose.

America grinned, no… _smirked_. "Still think bubbles are just for kids, England?"

England huffed and kissed him again.


End file.
